


A Special Date

by vissy



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, PWP, Paris/Torres - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-09
Updated: 1999-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-02 03:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vissy/pseuds/vissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom and B'Elanna share a date at Sandrine's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Special Date

**Author's Note:**

> This was a PWP written for my friend Katherine back when we both complete goners for this ship. It was the second story I ever posted to the internet (back in September 1999) and I had not read the pairing before. Presented as an artefact of my fannish infancy.

"Been waiting long?"

B'Elanna started at the sound of Tom's voice; deep and velvet-edged, it sent a tremor of excitement through her. She'd been propped at the bar of Sandrine's for what seemed like hours, lulled into a reverie by the soft, sexy music playing in the background. The place was almost empty, with just a few holographic regulars like Gaunt Gary and the gigolo present. Both men had been fiercely rebuffed by B'Elanna in the past and now avoided her like the phage. Sandrine, however, was not so shy; she'd spent a good 17 minutes lecturing B'Elanna on what Tom liked in a woman before leaving her to nurse her second glass of house red in peace.

Tom's breath caught as B'Elanna turned slowly to greet him. Clad in a tiny dress of cream silk that emphasised the olive warmth of her skin, B'Elanna looked almost unreal in the dim light. Her flowerlike face lifted to meet his avid gaze with the beginning of a smile touching her lips. _Thank god she's not mad,_ Tom thought. _It's a good thing I remembered to obliterate Ricky from the program._ Tom had room in his heart for just _one_ brunette nowadays, and that was B'Elanna.

B'Elanna watched admiringly as he walked towards her with silent grace; it was no wonder she hadn't heard him enter the holodeck. Leaning back against the bar, she suppressed a sigh at his compelling blue eyes and his firm, yet gentle features. "Seems like a lifetime," she replied finally, before giving herself a mental kick; _that_ was the sort of remark that would only exacerbate Tom's infuriating arrogance.

Tom stopped before her, taking a deep breath to calm himself. The very sight of B'Elanna filled him with a happy buoyancy, and despite a gruelling shift with the Doc in Sickbay, Tom's tiredness was forgotten. Staring down into B'Elanna's dark, unfathomable eyes, the prolonged anticipation Tom had felt all day threatened to bubble into electrified euphoria. He'd need to exert an iron control over himself to resist for even a few seconds the alluring, musk-rose flush blooming across B'Elanna's face.

B'Elanna still held a drink in her right hand; Tom reached out and captured the other. Hardly able to think beyond the overwhelming need to touch her, Tom raised her hand to his cheek, pressing the knuckles gently along his tense jaw line. "I'm sorry I was late," he murmured in a husky whisper, before turning his face to brush tender kisses against her sensitive flesh. The spiderweb tracery of lines on her palm beckoned him; Tom's tongue followed them eagerly, and he felt a ripple of mirth as B'Elanna dropped her drink. Tom hoped fervently that Sandrine wouldn't come clucking over to complain about the mess; he planned on getting a lot messier than this!

Snatching her hand away, B'Elanna pressed it to her own overheated cheek, feeling her knees start to buckle. Grateful for the bar's support, she licked her lips nervously. "I didn't mind waiting, Tom," she said, her voice shakier than she would have liked. "But what happened to our special date? I gave up Lieutenant Carey's birthday party for this."

Tom's lips parted in a dazzling display of white teeth. "I happen to think kissing you is pretty special, B'Elanna." His smile intensified as he observed her somewhat dazed expression. Tom was inordinately pleased by her loss of composure; it seemed only fair considering the knots she'd been tying _him_ in lately.

"I thought we were having a meal," B'Elanna went on gamely.

Tom moved closer until there was little space between them. "I think we both know what we're _really_ hungry for, B'Elanna," he said, his voice low with barely checked passion. B'Elanna dark eyes flashed dangerously at Tom's presumption, but soon softened as they recognised the helpless desire in his gaze. His captivating nearness spoke to some part deep within B'Elanna, and she tilted her head back, inviting his touch.

Tom let out a heartfelt sigh of relief as he felt B'Elanna's defences subside. She had become the prickly delight of his life, and he often found it hard to guess just when her hackles might rise. Staring down into B'Elanna's eyes, Tom wound his hands through the rich, dark hair that swung so enticingly above her shoulders. His fingers moved restlessly against the sensitive flesh of her neck, his thumbs lifting her face to receive his searching lips.

B'Elanna's heart was pounding with the force of a matter/anti-matter reaction. She clutched desperately at Tom's waist, feeling his supple muscles tense at her touch. His slow, drugging kisses were becoming increasingly demanding, his tongue tracing her generously parted lips and even, white teeth; B'Elanna thought – rather absently – that it was a good thing she hadn't inherited typical Klingon dentistry, since Tom would have lacerated his poor, eager tongue by now. With that last thought, she met his moist overtures with almost savage enthusiasm.

Tom's control was slipping away; he was astonished to find that despite his vast experience with women from two corners of the galaxy, he resembled a randy teenager in B'Elanna's arms. It was some consolation to feel her kneading his torso like a starving kitten. Yanking his mouth from hers with a suddenness shocking to both of them, he cried out her name with harsh urgency.

"Don't stop," B'Elanna pleaded, her eyes luminous with passion too long suppressed in the austerity of Engineering.

"Don't worry, I can’t," Tom assured her, thrusting her around forcibly so that she faced the bar once more. He pressed close along the length of her body, his arms outstretched to trap her there. Burying his face in the side of her neck, he spoke in a hoarse whisper. "I just can't look into your eyes right now, B'Elanna. You're making me feel like some harebrained, horny kid about to get laid for the first time."

B'Elanna gave a bark of laughter. "What makes you think you're going to get laid, Tom?" she asked wickedly. Hearing his anguished groan, she relented somewhat, reaching to stroke the golden head that nuzzled her neck so urgently. "Helmboy, as far as I'm concerned, you're in charge of this mission. I _would_ recommend full speed ahead, though."

"Oh, you would, would you?" Tom murmured into her left ear, which she had tilted up obligingly for his delectation. He drew the velvet-soft earlobe into his mouth and sucked it gently, feeling her quiver in response. "Well, I can see that your impulse engines are fully operational," he said, biting the flesh lightly, "but do you have warp capability?"

B'Elanna felt her gut clench in an alarmingly Klingon manner at the sharp graze of his teeth, but found breath enough to form a response. "I'm the Chief Engineer," she said stoutly. "You could travel at Warp 56 and I'd still keep up!"

Tom's muttered "Good!" was almost lost as he nipped a blazing trail down the side of her neck. His nimble fingers brushed lightly up her bare arms before coming to rest on her shoulders. But rest they did not, instead massaging her tense muscles with a pilot's deftness. Her own hands, in response, could only grip helplessly at the bar, and Tom reached around to squeeze them reassuringly.

Then he stuck a hand up her dress.

B'Elanna gasped at his roving caress and looked around quickly to see if anyone was watching. The handful of holographic characters was still present, and Gaunt Gary in particular seemed to be staring straight at them, although she noted with relief that it was the eightball that had the hustler's undivided attention after all, and _not_ Tom's exploring hand. Assured that no one had noticed the seduction being enacted in their midst, B'Elanna relaxed a little - until Tom's hand, stroking up and over her hip, flicked her knickers.

"Panties, Chief?" Tom asked in an ironic tone. His fingers caressed her fevered skin beneath the lining. "What did you think you'd be needing _these_ for?"

"If I didn't _wear_ panties, Tom, how would you get _into_ them?" she responded tartly, shivering as his thumb moved over her jutting hipbone.

"Mmm...I just knew they had to be for my benefit." Tom had both hands under her skirt now, and his breath was hotly ardent against her ear. "_Wet_ panties too, I see. Well, I'm afraid they'll have to go," he said with mock apology, before shucking her knickers off with a practised ease that B'Elanna found both irritating and irresistible. The flimsy scrap of Mari lace lay rather forlornly at her feet, but she couldn't regret its loss. Tom's hands were now free to roam over the soft swelling of her flesh at his leisure, and she held onto the bar for dear life.

For Tom, the anticipation was unbearable, yet he was determined to prolong the electrified suspense as long as possible. His insides were jangling at the erotic sensation of her bare flesh in his hands, and he had to fight hard for control. Removing his hand reluctantly from B'Elanna's squirming backside, Tom anchored her with one arm around her slender waist, then brushed her shoulder straps aside with his free hand.

Feeling the silken sheath of her gown start to fall, B'Elanna clutched at it desperately. "What if someone sees us, Tom?" she cried, colouring fiercely.

"What does it matter?" he asked with just a touch of belligerence. "They're only holograms." He continued easing her dress down the length of her lithe body, ignoring her squawks of protest. The creamy material pooled gently around her waist, catching at the swell of her hips, and he slipped his hands under her arms to cup her firm, high breasts. "There," he said, his voice thick and unsteady, "now no one can see them."

Glancing breathlessly to one side, Tom found that they had indeed been discovered; Sandrine was watching them with a scandalised expression. As B'Elanna molded the contours of her body against him helplessly, Tom threw Sandrine a wicked grin. "Computer, freeze Holodeck Program Paris 3!" he gasped.

The scene came to an abrupt halt with Sandrine's expression locked into disapproval, and B'Elanna gave a choked laugh. "Computer would you put the smoochy music back on?" she asked, uncomfortable with the eerie silence that had fallen. Shivering a little in her sensitised, semi-naked state, she added plaintively, "I'd also appreciate it if you kept the fire stoked, Computer."

"Cold, are you, Chief?" Tom asked, as he brushed his thumbs across her pebbling nipples.

"I know, I know," she bantered, "_you'll_ warm me up." B'Elanna enjoyed their gentle sparring, but was glad of the semi-darkness that hid the scarlet in her cheeks.

Tom let his right hand stroke with shivery lightness along the length of her spine; she didn't have the rugged vertebrae of a full-blooded Klingon, but instead a delicate ridge of bone that begged his touch. As he pressed kiss after heady kiss across B'Elanna's shoulders, Tom eased her dress over the sensual curve of her hips, letting it join her knickers on the floor.

Apart from a pair of sexy high heels, B'Elanna was now naked. Tom took a long step back to enjoy the view, his blue eyes raking boldly over her. B'Elanna could sense the steady heat of his gaze and a delicious shudder leapt through her. She turned slowly to face him and watched smugly as his mouth gaped. Bringing her elbows up to rest on the bar behind her, she challenged him with her smouldering eyes and defiant breasts. Stretching her right leg out towards him until the sharp heel pressed into his taut abdomen, she flashed him a wicked smile. "May as well take 'em off, helmboy. I know you won't be satisfied until you've got me bare-assed naked."

A grin overtook his handsome features as he clasped her shapely leg in his steadying hands. "I could've _sworn_ that was bare ass I just saw," he said, his voice holding a rasp of excitement. As he leant forward to tickle the hollow behind her knee, the heel ground into his torso with exquisite agony. "You're right. They've gotta go," he gasped. Both heels were eased from her curiously dainty feet; Tom flung the shoes over his shoulder, and to B'Elanna's amusement they landed on the pool table, ruining the dormant hustler's set-up.

"Barefoot and bare-assed, Tom," she said playfully. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Follow me and I'll show you." Tom turned on his heel and headed towards the rear of Sandrine's, moving with long, purposeful strides. Halting in front of a tiny snug, he waited for her there in a giddy haze of expectation.

B'Elanna felt drawn towards him by an invisible web of attraction. She wrenched herself away from the support of the bar and moved slowly, sensually across the room. Passing the silent, still holograms that inhabited Sandrine's, B'Elanna blushed at her own excitement. The hustler, the gigolo... they all seemed to be staring straight at her, transfixed, though she knew it was only her overheated imagination. Her heart hammered foolishly as she glided ghostlike through the bar in front of her unknowing audience.

Tom made no attempt to hide his admiring perusal; the sight of her fluid stride made his pulse pound insanely, and the surrounding statuary added a surrealistic appeal. As she approached his, Tom felt his control snap, and he swung her roughly into the cradle of his arms. B'Elanna burrowed into his embrace, enjoying the strength of his arms about her and the rough abrasion of his uniform against her bare skin. The door of the snug was open and he carried her into the cramped little room, setting her on the edge of the table.

B'Elanna's bottom wriggled on the hard oak, feeling the drunken engravings of six centuries scratch her skin with pleasing friction. "Was this little room always here?" she asked, her arms tightening around his neck. "I don't think I've ever noticed it before."

Tom moved between her legs with insistent urgency, caressing her parted thighs into trembling eagerness. "No, I programmed it especially for tonight. Always wanted to make love in a snug," he said, before his mouth claimed hers again and again with an insatiable hunger. Tom's impatience had grown to explosive proportions, and he swept her back upon the table, crushing his hard body against the melting sweetness of her breasts and belly and the cradling warmth of her hips.

B'Elanna fumbled at his trousers, almost crying with her need for relief; once freed, he sank gratefully into her welcoming heat without further ado. Pausing for a long, delicious moment inside her, Tom wondered with heady bemusement what had happened to his resolve to make their lovemaking last all night. _Not that I'm complaining,_ he thought, groaning as her muscles pulsed about him with brain-snapping force.

"Just hang on, B'Elanna," he panted, and she complied with abandon, clamping her arms and legs around his straining back fervently. Feeling B'Elanna's sharp nails clawing emphatically at his back, Tom could only be glad he'd left his uniform on - she would have shredded his bare skin! The violence of her desire spurred him on, and he started moving inside her with a mindless, primitive rhythm, gripping her writhing hips with painful intensity.

They ground against each other happily, withdrawing a little whenever they neared the edge just to lengthen the exquisite torture. "Wait!" B'Elanna would order, only to scrabble at him desperately when he obeyed. "Hold it!" Tom would cry out, only to find her taking the words literally, stroking his rigid arousal with her nimble engineer's fingers.

Between the stiff material of Tom's uniform and the rough oak pressing into her back, B'Elanna was being sorely abraded - and she didn't mind a bit. All too quickly she felt the hysteria of ecstasy rising within her, and she surrendered to it helplessly, biting Tom's cheek with bloodthirsty euphoria. The bloodletting tipped Tom over the edge too, and he spilt himself within her with a shout of delight.

Weariness enveloped them both, and Tom collapsed upon B'Elanna in boneless repose. Her legs were still wrapped about his waist, her ankles crossed lightly above his hard buttocks; her arms, however, had fallen to the table top, and he entwined his fingers in hers contentedly.

B'Elanna stroked her cheek against his golden hair, astonished by the sense of fulfilment she felt in the drowsy warmth of his embrace. "Warp 56, huh?" she said, her mouth twitching with amusement. "I could've sworn that was a theoretical impossibility."

Tom threw his head back and laughed. "Hey, you knew I was a great pilot when you came aboard."

"So how about another ride, helmboy?"

"I'm at your command." Tom could feel himself tightening within her, readying for another round trip.

That's when Lieutenant Joe Carey entered Sandrine's.

Followed closely by Harry Kim.

Not to mention Ensign Samantha Wildman... with her little girl Naomi.

Plus the Delaney sisters.

And a whole lot more people besides.

Tom was paralysed between B'Elanna's soft thighs, which clenched abruptly around him like steel. "Shut the door!" she squeaked.

Tom forced his reluctant body from hers, struggling valiantly to comply. With a few awkward manoeuvres in the cramped space, he pulled the little door shut behind him, enclosing them safely inside.

B'Elanna sat up on the table and grabbed two fistfuls of Tom's uniform. "What are they all _doing_ here?" she demanded, the colour draining from her face.

Tom ran an anxious hand through his hair, shaking his head in bewilderment. "I don't _know_. I thought everyone was going to Carey's birthday party in the Mess Hall. I figured we'd have this place to ourselves."

B'Elanna glared at him with burning, reproachful eyes, hideously aware that _he_ was fully dressed, whilst she... was not. "You figured _wrong_, you idiot!" She stirred uneasily on the table top. "Tom, do you think anyone saw us?"

"I don't think so," he answered in a hushed whisper. "It doesn't sound like it, anyhow." Outside their little snug, the raucous sounds of laughter were filling the holodeck quickly; the merriment and conversation, however, seemed more concerned with Neelix's latest culinary disaster, a flambe that had sent the party scurrying to the refuge of Sandrine's, than with the amorous misadventures of _Voyager_'s Conn officer and his favourite engineer. "Hell, it sounds like half the ship's out there." Tom could hear the program resuming under Harry's laughing command; indeed, there was an immediate complaint from Gaunt Gary about the sabotage of his shot at the eightball.

"The eightball?" B'Elanna muttered, her stomach churning. "Oh no, _my shoes!_"

The high heels had indeed been discovered, and B'Elanna felt a shudder of embarrassment; she could hear Joe threatening to drink a toast from one of her petite pumps!

Tom was starting to see the funny side of their predicament, and regarded her with tender amusement. "It's Carey's birthday, and you're the one wearing a birthday suit," he teased.

B'Elanna jabbed a finger into his solar plexus. "Tom, _get_ out there and fetch my clothes!" she hissed.

"Yes, ma'am!" he said, brushing a kiss against her ridged brow while adjusting his trousers. "Don't get your knickers in a twist!"

He ducked silently out of the snug into the crowd outside, striding towards the pool table to retrieve B'Elanna's high heels from a confused Carey. "Hey, happy birthday, man," he said, clapping the redheaded engineer on the shoulder. Then he stepped over to the bar to pick up her discarded clothing, nodding and smiling at the bemused party guests before plucking the silken items from the floor with aplomb. "Gee, I wonder how these things got here?" he mused aloud. "B'Elanna's been looking all over for them."

Tom marched back to the snug with an armful of booty, feeling not unlike some French buccaneer of old - though he suspected that the average pirate never had to endure so much sniggering. He eased back into the snug, careful to protect his naked lover from any prying eyes.

B'Elanna appeared to have regained her composure; she was seated at the booth in a relaxed pose, and regarded his reappearance with a glint of merriment in her dark eyes. "So much for discretion, huh?" she said, taking the proferred items.

"Oh, I don't know," Tom replied, sliding into the booth beside her and gathering her in his arms. "I thought I handled it pretty smoothly."

"I agree." B'Elanna nestled into his embrace and licked delicately at the beads of blood running unchecked down his cheek, dipping her fingers soothingly into the gaping holes in the back of his uniform. "They never suspected a thing."


End file.
